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And there, finally, I spot Danelli, leaning against a pillar and studying the crowd. He nods at me when I meet his watchful gaze, and the tension across my shoulders relaxes a touch. I may not like what I imagine my husband’sconsiglieredoes for Rio, but I know he will do his darndest to keep us safe.
I spy a goatee-bearded man who I remember from Rio’s estate—I think his name was Darov. The name struck me at the time, as he seemed to be one of the few in Rio’s business orbit who doesn’t have an obvious Italian background. He’s talking with another man I recall from the same meeting—Enzo. That one is definitely Italian. I remember his accent was strong, and I think perhaps English must be his second language.
They and others I’ve seen at the estate acknowledge me with polite yet dismissive nods, which is about as much as I can expect. This world is not designed for a woman to be seen as anything other than window dressing for their chosen man.
With a start of nerves, I see Carlos Rossi skirting through the crowd over near the other side of the large room. I haven’t seen him since that meeting at Rio’s, and we barely spoke on that occasion. Will he try and seek me out tonight? The thought sends shards of tension straight back into my system, and my pulse rate speeds up slightly.
Rossi stops short when he sees Rio and me, and something flashes in his expression before the usual bland indifference descends. He mouths something unintelligible that I can’t lip read—at a guess, it is some kind of greeting. He follows up with a noncommittal smile before lifting his glass in a salute and then turning away.
I’m clutching my drink and trying to match more names to faces when I sense Rio’s intense gaze on me. My cheeks heat when I glance at him and notice the unexpected warmth in his eyes.
He leans in close. “I have been neglectful, Bianca. I should have told you right from the start that you look utterly stunning this evening. Your body has filled out since having Emilia. You are more voluptuous, and that lovely red dress shows off your curves to perfection. The way it drapes down elegantly over your hips almost to the floor—it highlights everything about you that I find desirable. You look good enough to eat, in fact.”
Eat? The thrum of desire between my legs is instant, and it only ramps up more when he lifts a hand to my face and traces a finger along one of my cheekbones. “Your hair styled up like this is a delightful change. Showcases your bone structure and the delicate line of your neck.”
His finger trails down my neck, along my collarbone, and then follows the line of my strapless bodice. I shiver beneath his touch. The caress is featherlight but no less impactful for its barely there nature.
“But I will always prefer you with your hair tumbling everywhere, no makeup, and with your light dusting of freckles on show. Especially when your beautiful mouth wraps around my cock and you stare up at me with that burning need in your eyes. The need you are showing right now, in fact.
“Innocence and sensuality. You offer both in one package, Bianca, and it drives me to distraction far more than it should.”
I have no idea how to answer him. And I couldn’t, even if the right words did come. He has rendered me breathless.
His thumb drifts across my lips, and I only just hold back the urge to suck in his digit in a parody of what he has just described.
Not here, I remind myself.Not appropriate. Not among this crowd of murdering vultures.
The pressure of his thumb increases briefly, as if he can sense my hesitance and is daring me to do something risqué anyway.
Then his hand drops away, and he turns to greet someone, and I’m left with an unfulfilled ache at my core and a growing doubt that the moment of intimacy existed anywhere except in my head.
“Martelli,” Rio says smoothly, drawing me in close to his side without looking down at me. Nerves flutter in my belly, washing away any remaining ribbons of desire, and I look up to meet the cold expression of this evening’s host. “Congratulations to your daughter, and to your family. You have secured a good match for Daniela.”
“Yes, I have, Agosti. A very good match.” The voice is low and monotone. Nothing threatening about it whatsoever on the surface.
But the unblinking gaze that accompanies the words, on me rather than Rio who spoke, sends a shiver of trepidation through my body.
Gianni Martelli is Rio’s equivalent here in Washington. A mob boss in charge of a large outfit. His powerful energy vibrates around him as strongly as Rio’s does. Studying them side by side, I recognize certain similarities in the two of them, but I feel nothing except repulsion for the man whose home we are standing in right now.
It takes a moment to force my voice to work. “Mr. Martelli. Thank you for having us as your guests this evening.”
His answering smile reminds me of a snake’s smile—and I remember from my animal shelter days that the only reason a snake does that is when it is preparing to bite. “Bianca Carlotti. Your reputation precedes you. How delightful to finally meet you.”
I swallow hard and, without meaning to, find myself pressing more firmly into my husband’s side. But despite my fear, I feel the strangest urge to push our host.
“I’m not Bianca Carlotti. I’m Bianca Agosti,” I correct quietly.
I’m only aware of Rio’s faint start because I’m wedged so tightly against him, but that telltale response makes me realize I’ve possibly made a faux pas in correcting Martelli.
Is one little correction considered tantamount to a disrespectful slap in the face? Surely not?
My heart sinks. What am I doing? Every time I think I know how this world works, the playing field tilts and shifts, only this time when it realigns, I know I’ve just made myself a powerful enemy.
There’s a moment of silence, where everything around me drops away. Is that what real fear does to you? Places you in a bubble of terror that cuts off everything except the impending threat?
Then Martelli chuckles, a thin, fake sound, and the party around us rushes back in.
“Like I said, a delight to meet you.” He turns to Rio and nods. “We will talk later, when the formalities of the evening are concluded. Until then, enjoy yourselves. And Agosti, perhaps consider shortening the leash with which you have this lovely creature shackled.”
